Scenarios We'd Like To See
by Amaryllis3121
Summary: A collection of one-shots it would be interesting to see. I don't think there's such a thing as no slash where Sherlock and John are involved, but none intentionally written anyway.
1. Cycling

**Okay, so I thought I might assault the Sherlock fandom with my presence given that I've burned through my inspiration for pretty much everything else I'm into. And since I clearly can't sustain a multi-chapter story for more than a few days before I get bored, I've decided I'd better stick to one-shots. This is the first.**

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><p>John puffed and panted, struggling to keep up. He had a fair amount of stamina, but this was ridiculous. Sherlock streaked ahead with ease as John stumbled behind. It had been almost an hour and they were running out of London. His heart was going to give out before they caught the killer currently in front of them.<p>

And then, as if Sherlock had read his thoughts, he stopped dead. John almost ran into him, halting just in time. He took a step back as Sherlock whirled around.

"We need transport."

"You've just figured that out?" John wheezed.

"Cabs are too slow. What can we use?" He began turning on the spot, scanning the street. John took a quick look himself and saw something Sherlock had to have already seen.

"Sherlock, those bikes."

"No good."

"We'll easily catch him on those."

"No good."

John sighed in frustration. Not an easy feat when he was struggling to breathe as it was.

"Sherlock-"

"I said no good!"

"Why not?"

"I can't ride!"

There was a short silence. John snorted.

"What?"

"No matter. Call Lestrade. I already know where the killer's headed."

"No, wait. You haven't learned how to ride a bike?"

"John, this isn't the time."

John ignored Sherlock. "Why not?"

"Useless. Now please, call Lestrade."

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><p>John stood beside Sherlock, quietly observing as Lestrade's men took the killer away in handcuffs.<p>

"So... can't ride, eh?"

"John..."

"The great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know how to ride a bike."

"No."

"How come?"

"I told you. Useless."

John gave his friend a sideways look, examining his unreadable eyes and clenched jaw.

"That's not true."

"What?" Sherlock turned to John. "Of course it is."

"No." John shook his head, smirking slightly. "What really happened? Mycroft kept pushing you off?"

The look on Sherlock's face made John laugh.

"He did, didn't he?"

"No." The answer was in the tone of his voice. John supressed another snort of mirth. Sherlock gave him a look of pure disgust. "Let's go home."

"Fine. But there's somewhere we should go first."

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><p>Sherlock looked down at the bike John was propping up. His gaze drifted to the expanse of fields stretching before them and then back to the bike.<p>

"No."

"Come on Sherlock. You know this is something you need to learn."

"No it's not."

"I promise, it's easy. As soon as you get on, you'll know how to do it."

"I don't doubt it, but the fact remains that I have managed perfectly fine until now. I don't see any reason why the rest of my life shouldn't go so smoothly."

"Just a quick ride. So you can get the feel of it."

"John, this is preposterous. I am a grown man..."

"So that will make it easier. You won't fall over."

"I'm not afraid of falling over."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

Sherlock didn't answer. John smirked.

"The world's only consulting detective. Too scared to ride a bike."

Sherlock gave him a look that could wilt even the most robust flower and then seized the bicycle, coat tails flapping as he mounted it. Almost angrily, he pushed off, feet finding the pedals hesitantly. For a moment he wobbled, barely moving, but then he picked up speed.

"See? Easy."

Sherlock's feet stomped down on the floor, stopping the bike. He looked back at John.

"Happy now? Can we _go_?"

"Absolutely." John nodded. "So long as we cycle home."

Grinning at Sherlock's annoyance, John picked up his own bike and mounted it. With a small chuckle, he pushed off and pedalled toward his quite-possibly ex-best friend. Sherlock waited with a positively murderous expression.

"Revenge, John Watson. Expect revenge."

And with that, he cycled off tentatively, leaving John to follow behind, laughing freely as he wobbled about.

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><p><strong>So that was it. Did you enjoy it? I hope so.<strong>

**Until next time! :).**


	2. The Supermarket

**Okay, so here's the second oneshot. I know there are a million stories of Sherlock going shopping, and although I've yet to read one, there must be some of him going with John. Either way, I just thought this would be something that's mildly amusing. It was incredibly difficult to write, surprisingly, and that would be why it's a little OOC, so for that I apologise. But other than that, it should be fine. So yeah, enjoy :).**

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><p>It had been exactly four minutes and thirty seven seconds since they had entered the supermarket and John was already regretting his decision to allow Sherlock along. God only knew why the detective had taken a sudden interest in shopping, an activity he had previously labelled as 'dull' and 'mundane' on more than one occasion.<p>

They had gotten no further than the fruit and veg aisle before Sherlock had become distracted, by a cabbage of all things. He held it up to the light, examining it thoroughly.

"Awful," he declaired eventually, dropping the offending vegatable on the floor. John hurried to scoop it up, incredibly grateful for the plastic wrappings, as Sherlock plucked another one from the display.

"Sherlock, you can't just-"

"No good."

This one rolled under the basket of carrots. John thought it best to leave it rather than draw attention to himself by scrabbling all over the floor. He dropped the first cabbage on top of the others and attempted to drag Sherlock away, to no avail.

"John, if you do that, how am I going to know which I've already examined?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way," John muttered, giving up as Sherlock dropped the exact same cabbage back on the floor. "Could you _be _any more childish?"

"Probably not," Sherlock replied absently, picking up yet another one. "Why do they put this on it? It's just an inconvenience." He began to tug off the packaging. John yanked it off him hastily.

"Do you want it or not?"

"Fine. It'll have to do."

All of a sudden, he took off again, this time heading to the home furnishings section. John followed wearily, at a much slower pace so nobody knew he was connected to the madman who was currently examining a florescent pink lamp. He stopped at a safe distance away and sighed agitatedly as Sherlock began hitting the lamp against the side of the shelf.

"Sherlock!" he hissed, trying not to attract too much attention. "Sherlock, stop it!"

Sherlock ignored him, now attempting to pull the wire from the base.

"I'll have this," he decided, dropping it into the trolley beside the cabbage. Then he turned to John. "Where do they keep the microwaves?"

"Oh no. Sherlock, we are not buying another microwave," John said sternly.

"In that case, I'll just have to blow up the one we already have."

John sighed. "Fine. But we keep the new one. No sense in blowing up a brand new microwave."

Sherlock smirked. "My thoughts exactly." He followed John down to the third aisle along, where the appliances were kept. After a little um-ing and ah-ing, he decided on one that would suit their needs and bundled that into the trolley too.

"What do you need all this for anyway?" John asked as Sherlock moved on to examine a blender.

"An experiment," he replied, piling it on top of the microwave. "What else?"

"Okay, let me rephrase that. What experiment could you possibly need all this for?"

"A very clever one, John, and one you couldn't possibly comprehend." He stopped dead, causing John to bump into him with the trolley. "Can we buy a clarinet?"

"God no," replied John. "No way. That is where I draw the line. Not after the last time..."

"It was a one-off incident. Anyway, the cat was fine."

"No, Sherlock."

"Fine," Sherlock sighed. "If you're going to be boring..." He looked around, trying to see the signs hanging above the aisles. "I need some copper wiring."

"I tell you what," John growled, losing patience. "You take the trolley. Get whatever you need. I'll go and do some real shopping. I'll meet you by the doors in fifteen minutes." He shoved the trolley to Sherlock. "Try not to destroy anything," he called over his shoulder as he strode off.

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><p>Fifteen minutes later, he found Sherlock with a trolley piled high with various bags and boxes. To his irritation, he noted that Sherlock had indeed bought a clarinet. Decided not to comment on his friend's purchases, he turned to go, but Sherlock didn't seem to share the same notion.<p>

"Is that all you've got?" he asked, eyeing John's one, full bag.

"It's all we need," John replied tersely, turning back.

"Nonsense. This," he gestured to his trolley-load, "is what we need. That," he gestured to John's bag, "is useless."

"Yes. Useless. Food- one of the few things we need to keep us alive."

"Well there's no use in standing here and quibbling about it. Coffee?"

"Love some." John followed Sherlock as he strode in the direction of the café. "Oh, Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"_Never _ask me to take you shopping again. Ever. Are we clear?"

The detective smirked a little. "Indubitably."

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><p><strong>So that was it. Yeah, it was short in the end. I had intended it to be longer, but I just couldn't think of much more to put in. And, quite frankly, I couldn't imagine John putting up with Sherlock's... quirks for quite that long.<strong>

**Also, I just want to say a massive thanks to Irene Holmes for reviewing and of course, to all of you who put this story on alert and favorite. I'm honestly so grateful :).**

**And of course, as always, I really appreciate any feedback you have for me, so please take a minute to review, even if it's to say you hated it. I just like hearing from my readers!**


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